Ice
by Spaztron-The-Giraffekitty
Summary: Nami takes pride in her courage and rationality. But when a quiet farm boy claims her heart, it quickly turns into the scariest thing that's ever happened to her. If only she knew he was just as scared of loving her. Rated T just in case.
1. Terrified

Although she wouldn't admit it had she been forced to at gunpoint, Nami was absolutely terrified.

That ice that resided in her eyes was a reflection of her soul. She was silent, strong, bitter, and unforgivingly cold. For nineteen long years, not a single person had ever found a way to read her, to know her, to warm her up.

And here he was, his fingers entwined in her magic-flower hair, one arm pulling her even closer to him, until she could detect that faint familiar scent of wild grass and grapes that drove her absolutely crazy.

At the first touch of his hand to hers, she had felt the spark, actually felt a prick of warmth—the first she had ever known. Her entire life had been cold. Cold was all she had. And now this boy, a boy she hadn't even known until a year ago, was threatening to melt the ice that she was made of.

And she was terrified, because there was no chance that she would ever be able to pull away from him.

Not entirely of her own will, her hand reached up to touch his face. She kept her eyes closed as the glacier within her started to crumble. She knew that if she looked into his eyes, the ice wouldn't have half a fighting chance. She would melt into a puddle of water at his feet, unable to stand on her own.

His hair brushed against hers as he leaned in, touching his lips to her forehead, and she trembled with a foreign sort of fear. He knew exactly what made her tick, and it was scaring her. He could make or break her world at will. She was his book to read, his path to wander, his music to play.

She was in love with him, and it made her want to scream and fall away into the earth, never to be seen again.

That she knew.

What she didn't know was that he was just as vulnerable to her as she was to him.


	2. In A Name

He didn't have a rooster, so there wasn't the infamous "cock-a-doodle-doo" to wake him up, but Kyle's internal clock was as fine-tuned as could be.

"Unghh."

It was usually the first thing he said every morning as the sun poured through the window and into his eyes, but that didn't make it sound any less ogre-like.

He bounced up to a sitting position on his mattress. There was no need to make the bed, seeing as he didn't sleep under the blankets during spring and summer. He didn't need to—the house let the sun's warmth in, and having a dog and cat on your bed while you slept made you feel a little cosier.

"Good morning, Barker," Kyle said to the dog, who blinked absently and licked his owner's knee. On the other side of him, Purrs was already on the floor, mewing for her breakfast. Even though it was pretty much a daily routine, he couldn't help laughing.

He slipped off the bed and knelt down to retrieve a suitcase from under it. He yanked on a gingham shirt with two buttons missing before searching the case again, looking feverently for his overalls. Just as he was starting to get confused, Barker dropped the missing garment onto the floor.

"When will you learn?" Kyle sighed at his dog, stepping into the overalls. "Just because these smell like cow, that doesn't mean you can eat them." Purrs, now angry that her owner wasn't paying attention to her, batted at his leg angrily and flicked her tail.

"Don't worry, Purrs. I haven't forgotten."

Kyle moved to the fridge, retrieving a bowl of matsutake rice for himself and a fish for the pets to share. He didn't even need a plate to serve his companions. He tossed the fish to the floor, and Purrs pounced on it before it landed. Her meal was larger than herself, but Kyle knew that with the help of Barker, the fish would be gone in the blink of an eye.

After inhaling his rice, Kyle set the bowl on the table and stepped outside, breathing deeply. It was a fact of life that the air always smelled better before the sun had fully risen.

He had hired the Harvest Sprites to take care of his animals, as he did every Sunday, but he still made a point of visiting them.

Kyle was an all-around skilled farmer, but his strongest point was naming his animals. First there were his ducks. He pushed the door if the shed open and stepped inside, greeting each of the animals in turn.

"Good morning, Lanni," he whispered to the first duck, who was still asleep.

The second duck was sitting idly, poking around the straw for stray bits of feed. "Hello, Chila."

The third duck raised her head as Kyle walked by. "Good morning, Fraie."

The last duck was already up and about, pacing around the shed. "Nice to see you, Aurore."

Of all the animals Kyle owned, the chickens and ducks were probably his favourites, as were the names he had picked for each of them. He would have liked to visit the chickens next, but the sheds in his farm were built in a sort of circle, and the cows were next. The window was open, so he poked his head into the shed and whistled softly, beckoning the cows to come to the window. He touched each of their heads momentarily, looking into the eyes of each one as he recited their names.

"Gina, Snaps, Briar, and Delura." A smile spread across his face. "It's good to see you all. The Harvest Sprites will be here soon."

He kept the window open as he left, knowing his cows would appreciate the sunlight as much as he did. Next was the sheep shed. Kyle opened the door and chuckled as he stumbled upon the four sheep, huddled in the far corner of the shed. Three of the four animals were freshly sheared, and they liked to stay warm in the mornings, when the dew on the grass made everything a bit chilly.

"We'll have to have you sheared soon, Kit," he said, addressing the mother of the other three sheep. "Shanna, Nan and River. They're getting big, aren't they? Watching animals grow is such a gift." He smiled and rubbed Kit on the head. "Maybe someday I'll have children too."

Kyle stepped out of the shed, pulling the door shut behind him. At last, the chickens.

"I look forward to seeing all of you every morning." The words were out of his mouth as soon as he opened the door to the stone shed.

"Muff. How are you feeling?" The hen, having just recovered from an illness a few days ago, was sleeping in a pile of straw. Kyle stroked her with one hand before turning to the others.

"Dee and Emilie. You two are always together, aren't you? You must have been twins in a past life." The two chickens, forever synchronized in their actions, were pecking at the straw and blinking their bright eyes at each other.

Kyle blushed a little as he turned to the fourth chicken. He tried not to give his animals people names—at least, not names of people he knew. He had always respected animals as a species, and thought they deserved better. This fourth and favourite animal was an exception.

He picked up the creature, watching her hop up onto his knee, cheeks reddening even more as he picked a piece of straw off of her head.

"How do you do, Nami?"


	3. Bitter Unnoticed

Nami stood in her usual spot in the Inner Inn lobby as Ruby took her position behind the front desk. It was still early in the morning—none of the guests had woken up yet and breakfast had yet to be served—and the usual lack of speech remained between Nami and Ruby, creating a pin-dropping sort of silence in the room.

Not that it was awkward. Both Nami and Ruby had grown used to the absence of sound; it had happened for as long as Nami could remember staying at the inn. So it was unusual that, on that day, Ruby had chosen to stand up and join Nami at the painting she was standing by.

"Um." Nami blinked. "Did you need something, Ruby?"

The older woman smiled and shook her head. "No, dear. Just keeping you company, I suppose."

"…Alright." Nami gave a slight nod before turning her attention back to the painting.

There were a few more minutes of quiet as Nami examined and re-examined the painting, as she did every morning. The short brushstrokes depicted a quaint mountaintop scene, with a few coniferous trees in the foreground and a stream that poured softly across the grayish stone. In the background, the sun was either rising or setting beneath a cover of clouds, its warm colours spreading gracefully over the hidden sky. It was nothing special, but Nami spent each morning looking at it, if only out of habit.

Ruby looked up suddenly. "Actually, I did have something to ask you."

Nami smirked. "Thought so." Nobody ever paid any attention to her unless they needed something, she knew—it was something she had grown used to over the course of her life. "Well, shoot."

A wide grin spread across Ruby's face. "This is going to come as a shock…Nami, have you ever considered marriage?"

Nami's eyes snapped wide open as she broke into a shock-induced coughing fit, hunching over and sputtering. After a few seconds, she straightened up and looked Ruby in the eye. "Wh-where did that _come_ from?"

Ruby's eyes widened. "N-Nowhere in particular, dear. It's just…" She shook her head and stared off to one side, as if thinking hard about something. "Well, you've been living in this inn for almost a year now, and it still doesn't seem like you talk to anyone."

"I talk to you," Nami said, crossing her arms defensively. "And Rock. And Nina and Gustafa, when I see them."

"But Gustafa's almost eight years older than you," Ruby pointed out. "And Rock…well, he's--"

"No offence," Nami said coolly, "but I have no interest whatsoever in your son."

"I _should_ take offence at that," Ruby said, face perfectly straight.

After a moment of silence, both women started to laugh—Nami with a series of bitter chuckles, Ruby with a boisterous howling that almost shook the building. When they had managed to calm down, Ruby wiped the tears from her eyes and spoke up. "But in all honesty, Nami—you can't just live in the inn forever. It's no life at all."

"I'm a drifter," Nami pointed out. "How's that for life?"

Ruby should have said something about Nami's snappy reply, but instead, she sighed. "You can't just keep going from town to town forever, Nami. That's just no way to live. You'll be turning twenty soon—isn't it time you really settled down someplace?"

Nami bit her lip dangerously. "Maybe I'm not meant to settle down. And if I am, maybe it's not in the Valley." She regretted the words as soon as she had spoken them, but she was getting angry and wasn't about to take them back.

Ruby's eyes showed that she had registered the insult. "Nami, everyone in the Valley is so nice. And everyone really likes you, too."

"Yeah?" Nami spat. "Then how come nobody stops twice to look at me? How come everyone calls me unfriendly behind my back? Even that little girl, Grant's kid—she thinks I suck too, okay?"

"Nami, why the sudden outburst—"

"Why do I suddenly have to be chained to someone just because I'm getting older, huh?"

Tears formed at the corners of Ruby's eyes, and this time they weren't tears of laughter. "Not 'chained', Nami. But you're such a nice girl, and you should find someone—I mean, being loved is such a wonderful way to live—"

"_Stop telling me how I should live!_" Nami screamed suddenly. She grabbed the painting on the wall with both hands, yanked it off of the two screws it hung from, and flung it at the floor with every ounce of her strength.

There was yet another silence—this time, and awkward one—and Nami stormed from the lobby, slamming the door behind her.

Ruby shook her head, careful not to let her tears fall, and slowly turned the painting over. There was a crack in the cheap plastic frame that bordered it, but that was all. The mountains were still as strong, the trees still as silent, and that glimmer of sun just as calm. No matter how much frustration Nami took out on the painting, it didn't seem to care. Ruby would never know that the world thought of Nami the same way.

She sighed and picked up the painting slowly. She placed it, frame and all, on the front desk, making a mental note to fix it later. Then, staring at the ceiling as so not to let her tears escape, she ascended the stairs and retired to her room.


	4. More Than Moondrops

The cool scent of morning dew still wafted through the air as Kyle stepped off the stone tiles and onto a patch of sandy earth in front of the path to Romana's Villa. Kneeling down and poking through the weeds, his gloved hands found a wad of grass—orange—which he carefully dug out of the ground before shaking the dirt out of the roots and placing it in his rucksack.

_"Why do you never pay any attention to me anymore?" came the voice. Kyle could only bow his head and try to feel regret. It wasn't an easy thing to do. He didn't really have a reason for having cooled off, but it had happened, and he wasn't very sorry._

Hearing footsteps behind him, he blushed and focused on gathering the spring plants that sat calmly in the dirt. He had to be careful not to pick too many, or there wouldn't be enough seeds left in the soil for the plants to germinate again the next year. After quickly taking what he thought was his fair share of grass, Kyle started on the flowers.

He tried not to register the fact that the flowers in his hand were moondrops, but trying not to just made the point come across even more blatantly. The dainty, long-stemmed blossoms stared up at him brightly for a moment before joining the wads of grass in his bag. Plants are plants, he told himself. Just plants, nothing more.

_"Is there someone else?" she said sharply. It was more statement than question. There was some sort of unwritten rule that one you started loving, you weren't supposed to just stop. But Kyle had just fallen out of love and had yet to get back in, with her or anyone else. Not that she believed it._

It occurred to him that the dirt he had neglected to brush off the roots of the moondrops was probably all over the contents of his rucksack now, but he didn't really care. He wondered about the footsteps he had heard earlier. They had probably been accompanied by the stare of jealous and confused eyes. A glare, most likely. He straightened his hat, as though the eyes were still on him, even though (judging by the time) they were most likely on water now.

_He wanted them to stay friends. "That's all we really ever were," he told her, looking evenly into her eyes for any sign of emotion. His were not so much aggressive as still—he was going to stand behind what he thought was true. She could only look at him—the most passive, most horrible look he had ever seen in his life—and said simply, "It'll be too weird if we're friends." That was about all she had._

He shook his head vigorously. That part of his life was over. But even though he didn't like her anymore, even though it was over and he knew it, he couldn't stop wondering if he had hurt her or not. He worried about a lot of things like that. Moving onto the cream-and-green toyflowers, carefully digging around the delicate roots before lifting them out of the earth, he reminded himself that he was free of the burden that had been on his shoulders before, and that was what mattered.

_"What happened?" she said simply—oh so simply. "Am I not enough for you anymore?" The answer was 'yes', but Kyle wasn't about to tell her that. Her 'enough' and his 'enough' would never be the same thing. He just needed someone more. Someone with more presence, more life, more of something he couldn't quite put into words. The truth was, although he had loved this woman once upon a time, being with her for so long had been a mistake, and he was going to let go no matter what she thought of it._

Kyle surveyed the small field. He had taken his share of the plants here. He walked past the Blue Bar, walked towards the Inner Inn, and stopped. The flowerpots that surrounded the inn were housing moondrops and nothing else—not for their beauty or longevity, but because they were common in the spring. Like a match, an idea struck and lit in his mind.

_She wanted his love to be for her, but all he had for her was an apology and a promise that they could still be friends when she was ready. With that, he turned, his tail metaphorically hanging between his legs, and left. He was more._


End file.
